


Love Bite

by scorch66



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Other, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:40:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorch66/pseuds/scorch66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampire!Kame hunting down his counterparts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Bite

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be a bday fic for [](http://cease11.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cease11.livejournal.com/)**cease11**  ♥

The sensation of soft flesh giving way and the sudden, metallic taste of blood - so sweet and tangy and _heady_. He relishes the ensuing whimpers and moans that finally taper off into silence.

He licks a strip up the man's long neck, trying to capture the last of the drops and suckles on the twin punctures he has made. He drops the still body against the wall of the alley and gives a last look at tonight's victim. Dark hair, pink pouty lips and alluring eyes made even more enticing by the black shadow of make up; a tight black ensemble, the only hint of colour being the shirt worn underneath the fitted jacket, wraps the lean body underneath. The man's matching black fedora lies further along the alley floor.

Tonight's was a good catch.

But then again, he has always been rather picky with his food.

\---

"Night, Shu~ji-kun."

He watched as the boy jumped on the other - and was promptly pushed away. Apparently Shuji-kun didn't liked to be touched. He did look rather fetching in his school uniform though. His friend did, too, but he was never into the obnoxious sort.

Shuji bid his goodbye and headed on his route -probably on his way home- and with feline swiftness, he moved to follw in step, staying in the shadows born from the night. Only a quarter of an hour had passed when Shuji suddenly stopped and whirled around.

"Who are you?"

He smiled to himself. Most of his targets never discovered his presence until it was too late. Shuji was indeed a smart one. The boy startled back as he stepped out of the shadows, small hands tightening around the strap of his bag.

"What do you want?" Shuji asked, eyes narrowed and voice unwavering but he could see the fear in the boy's stance, his muscles tightened, ready to spring into action. He licked his lips in anticipation; he loved the chase, the high before the fall.

"To play," he replied and Shuji, the smart boy that he was, ran without a second's pause.

The boy didn't get very far, though.

Caressing the sharp bone of Shuji's cheek, already paling and cool to the touch, he gently covered the boy with his navy blue jacket.

 _"Goodnight, Shu~ji-kun,"_ he sang softly.

\---

The blade grazed his cheek and he reeled back, stung. This one was fiesty.

He had meant to go for the girl at first, not realizing she was under another's watch, but as soon as he had crept close, a violent arm had thrown him back. Her defender was a slight man, grungy and angry but an experienced fighter. Quite deft with a switchblade, too.

"Run, Nao," the man hissed out and stepped forward to hide the girl, sheltering her with the slight frame of his shoulders, the perfect picture of chivalry.

He smiled. "Why bother? I'll go after her as soon as I have my way with you."

The man lunged at him, blade swinging and biting the bait just as he had anticipated. With centuries of experience powering his moves, he swiftly dodged the attack and, foregoing the opening the man had left for a vital blow, went for the girl.

"Nao!" the man screamed but he had the girl in a choke hold within seconds. "Don't hurt her!"

With the girl trembling in his arms -a scenario he'd always been fond of- he turned to eye the man. His cheeks were hollowed and his entire figure pulled tight and tense. The desperation etched in his face was beautiful.

The horror that splintered across it when he snapped the girl's neck in two, even moreso.

He had made sure the man joined her shortly afterwards.

\---

The nob of an Adam's apple quivered in a supple throat. So, so close.

"That tickles!"

A flapping arm pushed him away and a burning, murderous urge sprang within him like never before. Sadly, the lack of a decent meal within the past week had him too weak and dizzy to actually manage the attack. He wasn't defenseless per se, but his entire body felt like a limp, soggy tissue. And as foolish as his prospective target was, the battered boxing gloves dangling from the man's bag -the name _'Kosaku'_ stitched near the handle- signaled that he was bound to be difficult to subdue with him in his current state.

But this man, Kosaku, was a fool and there were ways to trap fools other than brute force alone.

Simpler ways.

He leaned back on to the alley floor -the streetlight reflecting off the green glass of a forlorn bottle lying nearby catching his eye- and let out a long, painful moan. He had earned enough in his lifetime for his own to be more than convincing. Kosaku crouched over him immediately.

"Are you okay? Where does it hurt?" the man asked, earnest and panicked and incredibly naive.  
  
Foolish.

"Hungry...," he whispered, the truth too low for Kosaku to hear. His vision was beginning to blur, colours swirling together into a large confusing palette, and the instinct to rip and savage was already beginning to spur the growth of his canines.

Kosaku's face pinched together in confusion -wide eyes, narrowed brows and pursed lips somehow stark and clear against the alley walls melting together in the back- and he dampened his parched lips with the swipe of his tongue. A silent arm stretched across the pavement.

Anytime now.

"What? You're too quiet. Speak louder. Louder!" The man was speaking loud enough for the both of them.

"Hungry..." he whispered again.

"I still can't hear you," Kosaku shuffled forward, now bending so that the whisps of his dark bangs brushed his nose. "Okay, now again. Where--"

Shards of green glass showered the alley floor.  
  
Glittering emeralds scattering across a sea of ruby.

 _"Hungry,"_ he rasped and at last sank into his meal.

\---  
   
The tune of a sharp whistle jolts him out of his momentary reverie.

_"Arigatou~ my special word..."_

He smiles as he turns to watch a figure in pristine white cut through the sweeping fog that lingers throughout the streets and make a steady approach. This one is much too fond of theatrics - and always has been. Their encounter, so very long ago, had only served to increase his thirst for shouts and screams and _oohs_ and _aahs_ , although the kind he endeavors to win now are of a different... _flavour_ altogether.

 _"...for you~"_ the man finishes, smirking against his lips, flesh fitting perfectly against his own.

He moves back slightly and tips the man's matching white fedora upwards with the flick of his finger. "Must you always thank me everytime we meet?"

"But of course. You granted me this life after all," a wicked smile blooms, _"Master."_

A shiver runs up his spine. The man knows him all too well.

"Have you chosen, yet? It's your turn to treat me."

The man grins and pulls a piece of rectangular paper from inside his coat. A photo.

"You'll love this one. Exactly your type," he teases, waving the photo in the cool night air. He quirks an eyebrow in return and grabs the photo to examine their next meal.

"You've learned well," he says at last. "This one will do."

A moment and then the man surges forward, whispering against his neck. "But I'm your favourite, right?"

He laughs. (It really does tickle.) "Thirsty, are you?" he asks, amused and feels desperate lips rubbing an answering yes into his skin. "Very well then. I'm all yours."

There is a moment of delicious pain but it is soon followed by the pleasant hum of his blood thrumming beneath his skin. His body is alive in ways that his soul hasn't been for ages. He releases a twisting moan, echoing the voices of all those he has encountered, and leans into the other man.

The photo drops from his lax fingers and lands softly against the leg of the lifeless man leaning against the alley wall. It depicts a young man with russet hair, sharp cheekbones and a black school uniform. A young man whose eyes are narrowed in challenge at the camera and beyond.

The fog begins to grow thicker, masking the moans that continue to fill the alley, and under the silver of moonlight, a dark bruise blossoms against the whitening neck of the forgotten body. A macabre love bite.

 


End file.
